


A Witch's Tale

by Dystopico



Category: RWBY
Genre: Consentacles, F/F, Happy Sex, More to come as the story goes on, Multi, Other, witch!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:11:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8556871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopico/pseuds/Dystopico
Summary: In this world, many strange things can happen, but they are not so strange when you are one of them. When the witch Pyrrha finally finds her familiar, it's not exactly what she expects...Witch!Pyrrha AU, set in medieval fantasy





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Smut for you!](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/241312) by Anonymous. 



> Hello! This is the beginning of what I hope can be a long series. All the credits for this concept go to jo3mfg on Tumblr, for both their amazing artworks and the anonymous author who created Tendie in a story submitted to jo3. Go pay them a visit, you won't regret it!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll like both the story and the concept. This is the first chapter, written a while ago, and the next chapters will not come out frequently, so if you want to read a whole lot in a short time, this fic isn't for you.
> 
> Let me know if you liked or not what you read, and tell me why!
> 
> Enjoy!

As the sun rose over the horizon, bringing heat and light all over the land, a new, first day began.

From the nearby city of Vale, with its bustling market, filled with the early rising merchants and farmers, to the Castle, imposing even on the distant hill it was built upon. All throughout the fields and their hints of golden wheat, shimmering over the nearby river and even fighting against the thick forest to let some of its rays fall onto the ground.

Known by many but rarely talked about out loud, in one of the few meadows of the forest stood an old cottage, walls made of stone and four, young trees as pillars. With its two stories and fairly inclined roof, it was a strange construction to walk into, if you knew how to reach it. Squared windows on all sides allowed whoever lived inside to have as much light as possible and see around them, allowing them to look upon the flourishing garden and the well, always filled to the brim with fresh water.

No way to know who could live inside, no name on the door or signs to tell what kind of business could be run in such a peculiar place, but that wasn’t needed: if you were so lucky to reach it, you knew perfectly well what was waiting for you inside.

On the second floor, in the room headed east, the lone resident of that house had just woken up, awakened by the sun entering the window. With slow movements, she sat upon the bed, eyes still closed, and stretched her arms upwards while a long, silent yawn completed the beginning of her day.

The thin bedsheets were already failing to cover the upper part of her bare body, as she preferred to sleep that way when she knew she had a little time for herself. Opening her eyes, she was welcomed by the sight of her ordered bedroom: just the essentials were in sight, including the mirror on her left, just beside the door, and the wardrobe in front of her, holding more than just her clothes.

Her smile appeared as soon as she realised what day just began: it was time for her to finally have what she lacked for some years.

Excitedly, she jumped off the bed, tossing the bedsheets over the bed. The mirror reflected her image, and she made sure to take a good look at herself, enjoying her own shapes: after all, to bewitch someone had more than a meaning, and it was far easier if you could adjust your aspect as you seemed fit.

Long legs, slender but showing enough muscles, met a rather toned abdomen, one of the features she liked the most alongside her chest, soft and a little bigger than what she was suppose to have thanks to her powers, with not so large areolas to highlight the deeper colour of her nipples. Her face, with thin lips and a small nose, was as mesmerising as her deep, emerald eyes, often half lidded to form a seductive expression that made so many fall for her spell before being thrown away, figuratively or literally. To frame her attractive face, what had been for so long the main tell of her profession: burning red hair, freely falling on her back and shoulders, a mane of fire she treasured very much.

Her eyes moved up and down her reflection as she nodded, until her gaze met the brim of an irregularity of her otherwise smooth, pale skin. On her left shoulder, barely visible if seen from the front or if not enough attention was put into it, there was a large scar that covered part of her shoulder, vaguely shaped like a star. Her right hand went to cover it, feeling the irregular texture under her fingers, and her expression changed a little into a sad smile. Often thinking about it too much made her sad, but she shook her head, pushing that thought aside.

“Not today,” she said to herself, her confident smile reforming on her face.

With the flick of her wrist, she didn’t have to turn her head to see the bedsheets fold themselves in order as she went to the bathroom.

A large, round tub was in the centre of the room, filled with water from the day before. A few gestures of her hand and the water immediately became hotter, steam rising from it as she took a little vial from the counter near the door. The blue liquid was dense, but as soon as it touched the water it released a flower scent, faintly colouring the water of the same shade.

After stirring the water with her hand for a moment, she put one feet in the tub, sighing at the heat wrapping around her leg, dissipating any remaining sleepiness still in her. With slow movements, she put her other leg in it before lowering into the water and taking a deep breath.

The wind, gently blowing between the tree right outside her window; the soft noises of the forest animals; the awareness of being _the_ day for her… It relaxed her at first, but quickly made her excited, making her heart race a little.

Right when she was brushing her chest, cleaning it maybe a little too thoroughly, she decided her relaxing bath had to be postponed. The same hands lingering and taking their times on her smooth skin were then moving up and down her wet body, swiftly brushing it a couple of times before holding on the sides of the tub, helping her raise over the water. Stepping on the wooden floor, she moved her head sideways, stretching her neck before murmuring a few words under her breath: with a little whirlwind, the drops running down her stomach, between her breasts, on her legs, all dried out and disappeared, leaving her completely clean and ready to dress.

Her bare feet didn’t made much noise as she stepped back into the bedroom, walking straight towards the wardrobe. Every time she opened it, the various clothes she used to disguise herself in her early years showed up: lost child, seamstress, even beggar. But that day, she decided to use what she liked to call her ‘official attire’, or at least, the one she was more comfortable wearing when she knew she wasn’t going to use her curves to charm anyone. Pitch black in every component, she took her time to dress up.

First, her panties. Long, thin strings that reached and went over her hips, using little fabric to cover her nudities. Then, the skirt, held by a knot on her right hip, that covered only most of her left leg while leaving her right one almost completely bare from the cut it had. It was barely concealing the underwear she just slipped into, but it was enough to not be completely outrageous.

Then, the most laborious piece of clothing of her favourite attire: a black corset. It was a complicated design that she herself had drawn and had ordered from her trusted tailor, a boy of foreign origins with a peculiar pink straw of hair. It covered part of her lower back with a single piece of cloth, but on the front, a large, rectangular opening, where the several strings tightened and held the corset were, showed her midriff from the hip line to where her ribs were. After becoming a whole piece again thanks to a couple of knotted strings, the corset extended outside and upwards with two pointy ends, creating the room for her generous breasts, covering the lower side of them but leaving plenty in the open while supporting both mounds perfectly.

Her cloak, worn only on her left shoulder, was something she took habit of wearing to conceal her scar, but she had to admit it gave her a little more cover from the occasional cold wind that could raise. Held with a simple circular brooch right over her right shoulder, she then flattened it, making sure it was in the right place.

Last, but not least, were the long, leather boots she kept beside the wardrobe. They covered almost entirely her leg, ending in the middle of her thighs. Bending over, she slowly let them slip on her pale skin, one after the other, pulling a little to make them fit correctly.

Going in front of her mirror, she knew she did a good job: her entire appearance was stunning, she could almost make her own jaw drop from it, but she knew she could make it even better with a couple of tweaks here and there. She thought about the very short skirt she had in the wardrobe, or the garters that came with it, perfect to hold a pair of long, thin stockings in place if needed.

But that day wasn’t about mesmerising someone with her look. It was about finding her familiar.

She slowly walked down the stairs, not even looking at the mess in the only room that made the ground floor. On the two tables, one in the middle and one against the wall, right under the window, notes, books, ink and quills showed her researches about potions and creatures she desired to see and find. The dried, or drying, flowers hanged upside down on the ceiling’s beams gave a faint, sweet scent, but not even that was registered by her mind as she walked to her door with a determined look on her face. Just the time to stop and grab her small bag from the hanger right beside the door, and she exited her home.

Cold, almost too much from the shade of the trees, against the heating rays of the morning sun. With her arms almost completely bare, she walked through the forest, following a path barely visible under the low bushes and grass patches. It had been created to look as natural as possible, in order to prevent any undesired intrusion: anyone who actually managed to knock on her door, had been able to do so because she allowed them, making the dirt road a little more evident.

The walk to reach the outskirts of the city wasn’t too long. In a few minutes the trees were less dense and the edge of the farmlands were immediately after, taking most of the open fields. Some farmers were already working, back bent and tool in their hands, but seeing the lone woman walk not too distant from them, they all raised to wave at her or greet her. She politely bowed her head in response, not stopping for anything more than a smile, her excitement for the task at hand pushing her to hurry into the actual town.

Approaching the first buildings, the smell of freshly cooked bread could be smelled coming from the smallest oven of the town. The wooden houses and shops, just awoken like their inhabitants, were starting to be filled with noises and voices, just like the streets were slowly being populated with citizens.

In that morning, jovial atmosphere, a woman dressed in black, provoking clothes couldn’t go unnoticed. Many women and even more men turned their heads while she walked by, keeping her eyes out for what she was looking for, but nobody said a rude word: everybody knew who she was and how much she helped the city and its people. Some of those who were still drunk from the previous night looked at her in an inappropriate way, but she didn’t care. After all, she knew very well what effect she could have on anybody.

Eyes constantly darting left and right, the witch walked without a goal, always on the lookout for anything that could be her first familiar.

She had not a clear idea of what she would like to have as a familiar, but she knew very well what she would not have: cats, too stereotypical; rats, too dirty; owls, too nocturnal. She wanted something special, something that wasn’t too common to see, and she was willing to craft, summon or somehow create one if needed be.

Her aimless wandering took her most of the morning, but nothing caught her attention. Step after step, she checked every main street on the outer sections of the city, circling back to the side closest to the forest. A little tired, and slightly discouraged, she sat on a bench just beside the little oven whose products welcomed her a few hours before. Leant against the wall, she took a small piece of flat bread and began eating it, thinking about the next places to search.

It was then, as she was not caring about what was happening around her, that a noise came to her attention.

She shook her head and turned left and right, looking for the source of it without success. Thinking it was something happened inside one of the houses, she returned to her bread, shrugging. After a few seconds, though, the same noise, like the one of glass hitting something, came to her ears: once, twice, three times she heard it, clearly enough to figure out the direction it was coming from.

Curious about it, she got up and walked a few steps before stopping in front of a little, dark alley. From the few boxes and discarded food, it was clear it wasn’t one of the cleanest sections of the city, but she had seen worse: at least it wasn’t being used as latrine.

The noise repeated itself, becoming louder and louder as she carefully walked forward. Her eyes checked every dark spot, behind every broken box, until she stopped and froze in place, gasping silently.

A small glass jar was upside down, with a rock over it to secure it in place. From the small twigs and pieces of strings around it, it was clear it was some sort of trap, maybe created to capture rats or other small animals, but what was inside of it was far from being anything like that.

Desperately trying to break free was a little being, almost completely transparent, that vaguely resembled an octopus, even if it was far smaller. Its tiny tentacles, barely extending from its spherical body, were moving up and down a little, following the rest of the body. More than using its appendages to move, though, it looked like it could freely float and fly, and was using all of its, obviously minuscule, strength to try and raise the glass, without much success.

“Hello there!” the witch cheerfully said, squatting down to take a closer look.

The tiny creature immediately turned around, and she had to suppress a little squeal. Facing her were two, big, expressive eyes that were looking at her in fear: apparently, its transparent body was somehow hiding them. Being a little distant from the crowd, she even heard a faint alarmed noise as the little being floated against the glass, trying to put as much distance between itself and her. Its body, leaning against the jar, slightly expanded against it, showing it was quite soft.

“Aww, you poor thing,” she murmured. “Are you stuck?”

The little body turned right and left, looking to be sure there weren’t any more dangers around.

“You are just scared, right? You are a tiny, scared creature…” she said, extending one hand towards the rock. Instinctively, the creature closed its eyes, trembling, and flattened on the ground, even bringing the two tentacles in front upwards to shield itself from the imminent attack.

With a light giggle, she slowly took the rock from the jar and raised the glass, freeing it. “Here, look,” she said, keeping the jar in her hand.

Moving one tentacle, the little being opened one eye, slowly calming as it saw there was no danger. It made an inquisitive noise as all its tentacles stood a little raised, evidently not completely relaxed.

“There’s nothing to fear now.” Her sweet voice caught again its attention, and it looked up at her. Its eyes, far too big in proportion to its body, shined a little as it closed them: if it had a mouth, it would smile. “You are quite cute, you know?” she continued, bringing her index in front of its eyes, moving it up and down. The little creature followed the movement with its eyes, slightly floating the same way.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, retracting her hand.

Another noise, and it tilted its body a little sideways, interested.

“Here, I hope you like it.”

She broke a couple of tiny pieces of bread and handed them to it. From what she could see it had no mouth, but she tried anyway.

Carefully looking around, it floated up and over the woman’s fingers, landing just in front of the crumbles. It was so light she almost didn’t felt its soft body move as it looked up.  Slowly, it took a piece with two tentacles and brought it close to its body, making it disappear. From the delighted sound it made, and the little movement it made, it was clear it was enjoying it: piece after piece it made every crumble vanish.

“You are so cute…” she whispered, looking at it as it satiated itself. It was docile, and quite expressive. Plus, it wasn’t something that could be seen everywhere.

“Listen,” she said raising her hand, bringing the creature at the same height as her face, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but… Would you become my familiar?”

The tiny being floated in the air, looking at her as it moved from her fingers. It took a moment looking at her, as if it was actually thinking about the proposal.

“I would take care of you, and no one would ever trap you again. You just need to be cute and do what I say.” She stopped, really hoping what she was saying was reaching it. “What do you think?”

It spun around on itself, looking everywhere before its big eyes fixated on the smiling witch. After another, silent moment, it “smiled” again, making a lot of excited noises as it run onto the extended hand, squishing itself on it.

“Really? Thank you!” she excitedly exclaimed, raising on her feet and bringing it close to her cheek, brushing it against her skin. It was dry and warm, not unpleasant at all, and its little tentacles reached out to give her the tiniest of hugs, gently wrapping on whatever it could.

“Now, I’ll take you back to my home,” she said, gently moving her hands and the creature on it. “But some people may find you weird, seeing you floating around me.”

The two eyes, if possible, became even bigger, pleading her to not leave him.

“Don’t worry! If you just go inside this again…” she continued, showing the glass jar to it.

The creature hesitated, looking back and forth between the witch and what was keeping it trapped just a few minutes before. It was searching for any kind of trap or reason not to trust the same person who just freed it, but in the end had to accept the offer. With a low humming sound, that the witch supposed could only be its way to sigh, it flew into the glass, lowering itself at the bottom.

She raised the glass, looking straight into those eyes: “It will be only until we are out of town. I promise.” That said, she put the jar into her bag and quickly walked away, almost running to get to her home as soon as possible.

The roads didn’t feel like they were made of hard rock, the buzzing of the increased people on the street didn’t even reached her ears: she was more than excited to finally have her familiar.

As soon as the first trees began to hide her from sight, she pulled out the jar, shaking it a little: “Here, now you can come out,” she gently said.

The creature waited a moment before popping its head outside, looking around. Once the reassuring smile made it sure there was no reason to be alarmed, it floated outside, staying a metre from the witch. A low, long sound of surprise could be heard as it looked the forest and the sun filtering from the leaves.

Walking right beside or behind the creature, she kept on looking at it for the whole time they took to reach the witch’s house. It was undeniably cute, there was no other word to describe it: floating around, making squeaking noises that varied from the surprised to the happy, it was something definitely unnatural to see beside a witch; to her knowledge, it was something that had never been seen before.

“So… here we are,” she said happily as the forest opened to her cottage. “Do you like it?”

Excitedly, the tiny creature rushed towards the wooden door, almost slamming against it. A couple of tentacles reached behind its body as it made a sound that resembled a nervous laugh, making the witch giggle in return.

“Wait a moment!” she chuckled, opening the door and letting it in.

While the little being looked around what was going to be its new home, going close to inspect anything that caught its attention, the woman placed down her bag, not stopping looking it. “You are a curious one, aren’t you?” she said, freeing a little space on the central table. “Come here, please,” she said, patting the wood.

In a moment, the creature stopped inspecting the dried flowers and flew on the table, looking up to her.

“So… What exactly are you?” she asked, poking it with a finger, making it wiggle its tentacles. “You are magical, of course… But what kind of magic?” she thought out loud. She grabbed it in her hand and squeezed it a bit, feeling the velvet like texture under her fingertips, but stopped as soon as it made a distressed noise. Simultaneously, it did something she didn’t expect: it changed colour, becoming a faint red while partially keeping its transparency. It even flew a little closer to her face, pointing her with most of its tentacles as it furrowed its eyes.

“Okay, okay! Sorry!” she said, raising her hands. “I’m just curious about you, as you are curious about… well, everything, apparently.” Her light laugh filled the room as the creature calmed itself, becoming transparent again. “So… I think you will need a name, won’t you?”

The witch turned around, humming a song to herself while searching a specific book between the dozens that filled the shelves. “Maybe I can give you your right name, if I can find you somewhere,” she mumbled as her fingers passed every cover, not finding the right one. “Sure, if I had any idea what you are, or what you do, that would help me…”

Another noise, this time a little louder, made her turn her head. The creature was on the table, looking at her as if it was waiting for something. “What?” she asked, “Can you do something special?”

Its eyes moved down, averting her gaze. In the brief moment she stared at it, she was sure she could see a little red under the eyes, but she didn’t gave too much weight to it as she resumed her research. “Sure, go ahead.”

She stopped for a moment to giggle. “Show me what you can do.”

The laugh in her head stopped a second later, as she heard the noise of something falling. Turning her head, her smile turned to a neutral expression before becoming a surprised, and mildly scared, one.

In front of her, where the cutest little creature she ever saw was, a series of long, light blue tendrils were slowly moving altogether, like leafs against a breeze. Different diameters, but they all got tapered ends at the end of their narrow tip.

Before she had any chance to react, a few of the thicker tendrils moved lighting fast, wrapping themselves around her ankles and wrists, pulling with a strength she didn’t expect. Her arms got spread, while she felt the tentacles around her ankles slowly pulling upwards, making her unsure on her feet.

She tried to move her hands and mutter some arcane words, but none seemed to affect the being or any of its parts. Her morale immediately dropped as another tendril, bigger than the others, circled her waist and, without much evident effort, raised her from the ground.

“Wha- Hey!” she cried as she quickly found herself being moved as that thing wanted, even ending upside down. Her skirt moved, revealing her legs and underwear, before she screamed on the top of her lungs: “Stop!”

Much to her surprise, every move of the tendrils on her actually came to a halt.

One tentacle, thinner than the ones holding her, moved in front of her face, swaying a little as it pointed at her.

The witch lidded her eyes, putting up a stern look on her face. “What are you doing?” she asked harshly, “Put me down. Gently.”

As commanded, the tentacles turned her and let her land on her feet, but didn’t release her.

“So you can understand me,” the witch thought out loud. “Were you really showing me what you can do?”

The grip on her wrists tightened for a moment and on the tentacle in front of her a faint redness appeared on the sides of its tip.

It was impossible to stay mad at such a creature, especially for her: her expression softened as she tried to move her hand. There was no resistance from the tendrils, allowing her to move as she wanted.

Her hand reached under the tentacle, pushing it a little upwards. It followed her movements, letting her take a good look at it. “So…” she said, “you can change shape. How much?”

After a moment, the tentacle in her hand slowly shrank into something not thicker than a thread. It kept that size for a few seconds, letting the witch wrap her hand around it before getting bigger again, reaching the same size it had before and continuing, until it was almost as large as the woman’s head.

“Wow,” she exclaimed, surprised by the transformation. “That’s quite impressive, but… keep a smaller size, would you?”

After her words, the tentacle reduced itself to its original dimension, slowly waving in front of her face again, waiting.

“Ok, now I know what you can become. But what can you do? Do you torture people?”

The tendril reacted, recoiling at the word.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. If you don’t do that, why the restrains?”

The tentacle didn’t move at that question, but the answer arrived anyway.

The feeling of another tendril, thinner than the others, made the witch shudder in surprise. It snaked its way up her most exposed leg, from the ankle to her thigh, until it reached her panties. It found its way right between her legs and rested there, pressing against the fabric with a long section of it.

Only a simple “Oh” exited her mouth as she looked down at the tentacle. She understood what it was about in a moment.

“You are _that_ kind of creature?” she asked, surprised. An incredulous chuckle escaped her lips before she could speak again: “That’s new,” she said as the tentacle stood there, gently waving against her panties. “I guess I asked you for it, and knowing what my familiar can do it’s kinda important, so…”

Her heart started to beat furiously fast, even if she tried her best to keep a composed look. She hadn’t had a day off in a while, and the adrenaline for finding her familiar was starting to make her blood flow somewhere else: “Before I let you to it, a couple of things, since you seem to understand quite well.”

The tentacle in front of her face sinuously moved up and down, waiting.

“First: if I say stop, it means stop. If I think stop, it means stop. If I would think stop, it means stop. Is that clear?” She had the feeling she didn’t had to specify that, but she said it out loud more to convince herself than the creature.

“Second: stay away from my ass. Nothing goes inside there, are you clear? Or else I’ll make my mission to melt you in the most painful way possible.” Her tone was calm, but her face would have intimidated anything. From the second ‘nod’ she received, though, she knew that threat wasn’t necessary.

“Third and last.” She paused to take a deep breath while in her mind, for the last time, she thought: _Am I really doing it?_

“I like it a little rough.”

All tendrils stopped, their ends moved to face her, as if they were all waiting something.

_It seems I don’t have to worry at all._

“Let’s see what you have in store.”

The tendril between her legs increased slightly in size, pressing a little harder on her and moving left and right, gently stimulating her even through the fabric. Another tentacle, seemingly out of nowhere, pressed itself against one hand, asking for something.

“Oh, right. It wouldn’t be fair, I guess…” the witch giggled, wrapping her hand around it.

Even if they moved and bent quite a lot, as soon as she grabbed it she could feel it was solid, almost rigid, allowing her to slide her fingers up and down it. The texture, almost as smooth as silk, didn’t create any resistance to her movements.

As she continued, slowly increasing her pace, she could feel the width of the tentacle increase, little by little, until it fitted perfectly her hand: she had a firm grasp of it, with her fingertips overlapping but not by much, not forcing her hand into a position that could tire it. She thanked her good star for it didn’t seem to be oozing some strange liquid out of it: she knew a couple of monsters could do that, and she had always been repulsed by them, even by their description.

She kept on going, moving her hand faster and faster, almost entranced by looking at the tendril staying there and letting her do the rest at her pace, at her speed.

The witch could still feel her heart beat hard inside her chest, still a little incredulous for the whole circumstance she was in, but she calmed herself enough to even experiment a little: giving a few seconds of furiously fast moves before going incredibly slow, changing pace to see if it could react in some way or if there was something that it could actually like more than the rest. She even spent a little time keeping her hand still, almost all the way to the tip, and just move her thumb, brushing it on against the lower part of the barely present head of the tendril.

The reaction to her experimentations was double: sporadically, she could feel the tentacle in her hand quiver for a brief moment, moving just a little but not trying to retract in any way; the other tendril, the one on her core, followed the same reactions, increasing its pressure and movements the same way, pushing the fabric between her folds as it slid between them, being sure to keep its tip over her still covered clit, gently pressing on it.

“Let’s see what happens…” she giggled as she tightened her grasp, feeling the tentacle firm in her hand. She then pulled it closer to her mouth, feeling no resistance, before pulling it near her chest, bending it upwards. She looked down on it, taking a few seconds to collect a little saliva in her mouth before letting it pour down from her lips and onto both its tip and her hand.

The warm liquid added to the already hot tendril as she resumed her movement. The slight wet noise could be heard in the room as she increased her pace, determined to see if her intuition was right.

The answer didn’t linger, and it made itself obvious rather quickly. The tendril began to move back and forth a little, matching her speed and letting her cover more length with the same movements, getting slightly bigger with the addition: if that was anything to go by, she could assume it was something the creature was liking.

As she adjusted her pace against the tendril, she could feel the one between her legs follow a similar pattern, bringing her more than once on the verge of a sigh. It was so strange to do what she was doing, she didn’t even paid attention to her rising arousal, something that was starting to manifest on her body. Her legs, already tired for an entire morning of walking, were getting a little weaker under the constant stimulation she was undergoing, and her breath was getting a little heavier not only for the effort in keeping her movements.

Before she could decide to take it down a notch and slow down, the witch felt the tentacle in her hand starting to twitch and move erratically between her fingers.

“Oh?” she exclaimed, adding her other hand and squeezing, hard, “Are you going to…?” She left her question suspended, as she liked to do each time she was asking that, and let the creature ask for itself.

She brought the tentacle near her face and opened her mouth to breath heavily as she gave it all. Her hands, even if the saliva had dried out, kept moving effortlessly up and down the tendril: one focused on the tip, while the other took care of the rest of the length.

After little more time, the tentacle stood still for a moment before a liquid hit the witch’s face. A few sprays hit her, a little amount of the same, colourless substance spreading on her upper body as she slowed down her movements, both from the surprise and habit. She didn’t saw it coming, but she imagined it was only natural.

It was lukewarm, and from how it stood right where it hit her, it was fairly thick. The little amount that reached inside her mouth confirmed her that sensation, but it wasn’t as gross as she feared. The biggest surprise, though, was its taste: if she had to have a tasting while blindfolded, she would have easily mistaken it for honey from how sweet it was.

After licking her lips, she swallowed it without too much thinking, fearing, immediately after, to have made a mistake in doing so.

Her hands left the tendril in front of her, while the one on her core kept its place and even started to move quicker. “What was that?” she asked, calmly as she could. “I mean, I think I know what that was, but was it safe to swallow?”

The same tentacle responsible for it moved forward, poking her on the chest. Her eyes moved down, on the generous amount of chest she had exposed, and saw the mess it just made. Or at least, that was what she expected: instead of dirty fabric and skin, her clothes were untouched, even if the substance had clearly spilled on them, and on her pale skin there was little to be seen, like water drops drying on a stone.

“So… What does this do?”

The high-pitched sound was so close to an actual laughter, she put up a stern look.

“Really?”

Seemingly untouched by the reproach, the creature slowly moved more tentacles towards her. Two of them, larger than the rest, crossed behind her back, allowing her to lean a little against them as support. Steady as a wall but soft as fabric, they let her be as comfortable as possible while she was slowly being pulled up from her ankles. In the end, she was almost laying on them, suspended almost a metre over the floor, but without almost feeling the tentacles pushing her upwards.

“You still hasn’t ans-” she started saying, but her voice halted, changing into a soft sigh as her core was being caressed with more care: the little wiggle changed into a specific pattern, going up and down her slit with a circular movement, taking its time.

It wasn’t all that bad for the witch, who could quite literally relax and let someone else do her job, something that in her quite long career didn’t get to experience that many times. In the back of her mind a little voice kept on repeating how much she had to keep vigilant, in case something went horribly wrong as she was the most vulnerable, but form how the creature didn’t immediately tore her apart, she knew there was almost nothing to worry about.

Her head leant back, finding another soft tendril, ready to hold it as she felt the tension in her muscles leave. As time slowly passed, she could feel that the creature didn’t changed too much its movements, but something was definitely happening: her skin, especially on her chest, was getting quite hot and sensitive, so much that the sensation of the fabric over her skin, even if it was soft and delicate, was highlighted. Her breathing was getting deeper without her even noticing it, blood was flowing on both her face and between her legs, making her feel her underwear was going to be unusable in a little while.

It was clear what that liquid was doing to her body, but the last piece of proof came as two tentacles started wrapping themselves on her chest, both over her skin and her corset: they moved as if they were delicate, groping fingers, already squeezing her breasts quite hard, but not too much so. Whatever it was happening, it was completely different from anything she experienced and far more pleasurable.

The tendrils around her chest, thinner than the rest, kept on moving as their tips found their way between her mounds and beneath the fabric, touching and teasing every bit of sensitive skin they could find. Surprising the witch, they even poked at her erect nipples, finally causing a single moan to exit her mouth.

“Oh my…” she whispered, closing her eyes under the smooth touch of the creature. She silently thanked the tentacles that were supporting her, for she felt her legs weren’t going to hold her for much longer, especially after she decided to speak out what she was thinking: “You can… go on,” she panted, her voice barely shaking from the excitement.

The tendril on her core stopped moving, moving from the position it held from the beginning. Before the witch could question about it after she explicitly gave her consent, she felt the same, barely damp tentacle bending to hook her panties, trying to pull them down.

“Oh, right,” she giggled as her hands went for the two knots on her sides, undoing them both simultaneously. The wet fabric fell on the floor, baring her slit: “Don’t be _too_ gentle,” she said before relaxing, leaving her body in the hands, or tendrils, of the creature.

The known sensation of the smooth tentacle appeared again, brushing against her inner thigh as it snaked its way up to its original place. Its tip brushed against the whole length of her core, teasing her and making her twitch a little under the touch. Even that was enough to make her suppress a moan in the back of her throat, but she was glad it was like that.

Then, after being coated a little in her arousal, the tentacle slowly pushed itself inside of her, stopping after a few inches.

A long sigh accompanied its movements, as the witch felt it entering her, brushing against her walls and halting a little deep, but not extremely so. It was a pleasurable sensation, even with its reduced width, but she was glad it was giving her time to adjust to it.

“Okay…” she simply said, and it was enough for the creature.

It started moving, slowly, not going after the point it stopped at first. The witch found herself immediately easing herself into the rhythm, slightly moving her hips to match the movements as they very gently became a little faster. After all that teasing, it was almost relieving to finally feel that tentacle inside of her, as strange it was for her to have that thought.

Her enhanced sensations were already making her breath deep and give out soft moans, both from the care of the tentacles still working their way around her chest and the expert, controlled thrusts that the one inside of her was giving. Her voice resounded around the walls of her house as the speed increased, along with her the frequency of her little cries and gasps.

It was a little thinner than her preferences, but she didn’t had the heart to comment on size until then, especially feeling how much it was clearly holding back to make her comfortable in that strange first time. Even the larger tendrils, the ones holding her, felt like they were afraid to squeeze her lithe body too much. “You know…” she said, moving a hand to reach a tentacle, “You can’t hurt me that much.” Again, on the tentacle a faint redness appeared, making her giggle: “I don’t mind if you are a little more… rough. And slightly bigger.” Just saying those last words made her fear it was inappropriate, but the creature showed her it was more than happy to oblige her requests.

Escaping her fingers, the tentacle moved itself right against her lips, and she happily opened them, allowing it to enter. At the same time, she felt the tendril inside of her slowly increasing in size, becoming just as big as she preferred, almost as if it could read her mind and know when to stop. It then moved almost completely out of her before entering her quickly, making her exclaim in surprise, but her voice was already being muffled by the tentacle in her mouth.

The speed of the thrusts rapidly increased, to her surprise and pleasure. The tip of the tendril moved around, bending and twisting each time it went inside of her, as to test which spots were the right one to brush against: she could feel it exploring, trying again and again every possible angle; her walls clenching around it when it brushed against one of her sweet spots was a confirmation for both her and the creature that it was good at it.

Her whole body was being shook by the rapid, and strong, thrusts, making her move a little further towards the tentacle in her mouth. Even that had adjusted its size to be big enough for her to feel it filling her mouth, but not enough to make her feel her jaw tired. It was moving itself in and out, getting a little deeper each time until the witch tapped it with her hand, telling it the depth she was comfortable with keeping. After that, it started to alternate fast and slow movements, enjoying and making the witch enjoy it.

Having two tendrils going in and out of her at once, and two more taking care of her breasts was something she never thought could be so pleasurable. She was being taken care of in a way she could only dream about: they weren’t forceful and they weren’t disregarding her indications either. They were making her feel good, in the best way possible.

The overload of sensations was so high, that she could feel her climax approaching at an alarming rate. She mentally blamed the thick substance for it, but it was undeniable how expert the creature was in giving her what she wanted.

Feeling her walls starting to contract more often, she was a little surprised to see the tentacle in her mouth leave her lips: it was so satisfactory to pleasure it that it didn’t felt right, so she started using her hand instead of her mouth. Her voice no longer hindered, she could moan loudly as the tentacle thrust inside of her at an alarming speed. Her cries of pleasure were stuttering from the sheer force and pace it held, and she soon felt her mind going blank, but she kept on moving her hand up and down the tendril until she could.

With a silenced cry, the tentacle pushed her over the edge, making her hips buck upwards and her inner walls tighten hard around the tendril. A few seconds later, while she was still in the middle of her orgasm, the tentacle in her hand quickly moved towards her lips, releasing again a little more of that sweet substance directly inside her mouth. She gulped it all down, knowing the effect if would have on her, as her mind registered the slow movements of the other tentacle: it was carefully thrusting inside of her, making sure to prolong her pleasure as much as possible by moving its tip right against the places she liked most.

Her voice was low, and the panting was not helping her speaking: “That… was…” she managed to say before taking a deep breath.

“Again,” she asked, “but… leave my mouth.”

In an instant, the tentacle sped up, bringing her to the verge of crying from the pleasure. The double dose of the strange liquid was making her feel her whole skin burn from how sensitive it was getting; the tendrils stuck under her corset, still moving to massage her breasts, were driving her crazy as they wrapped their tips around her nipples, gently circling them around; her core, constantly stimulated for the longest time, was sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout her body with little effort from the creature.

She could finally voice how much she was enjoying that experience, and she was glad she chose such an isolated place to be in: her moans were so loud they filled her ears, making them the only thing she could understand.

The tendril kept on moving quickly, this time concentrating on hitting one spot in particular. With every thrust, the tip of it brushed a little against it, making the witch shudder every once in a while from it. Her thighs were already almost completely numb, and she was feeling her body falling limp, but the tentacles kept her in place without preventing any of her movements.

Just when she was feeling another climax approaching, she had to cry in surprise as she felt a tiny, little tendril wrap itself around her thigh before snaking on her stomach, tracing a path right down, onto her clit. Resting there, all it had to do was giving light brushes to the overly sensitive bud to burning the witch’s fuse really fast: that, her breasts, the expert thrusts, it all brought her to feel herself come again in a very short time.

“Please don’t stop!” she had to cry out loud. She was fearing her mind would give up on her from how much it was being loaded with mixed sensations, both them and her senses enhanced. It was far from being something intimate and sensual, like what she experienced with her lover, but it was undeniably _good_.

As she was on the verge of her climax, she felt the tentacle inside of her getting slightly bigger, which made her walls, already squeezing it, being stimulated more. At the same time as she felt herself quiver under the second orgasm, the filling sensation inside of her increased, as the tentacle released another load of the substance inside of her: hot and sticky, it made every following movement of the tendril different from before, and produced a new array of sounds and noises she never heard before.

Finally spent, and satisfied, the witch let her mind wander as she closed her eyes. She barely felt the wooden floor against her back as the creature laid her down carefully: she kept on twitching several times as the heat and pleasure slowly faded from her body.

The substance inside of her threatened to escape her core when the tendril slid out of her, but from being so dense it stayed there, warming her up while it was absorbed by her body.

It took her several minutes before she could understand again where she was and how numb her muscles were: opening her eyes and looking around, it looked like nothing had been broken, but the tentacles were gone.

“Huh?” she muttered and raised her head, finding immediately the tiny creature she rescued. It was still on the table, looking down on her with a worried expression.

“There you are,” she said. Even from all the screaming, her throat was anything but sore: probably what she swallowed had more than a single effect. “Come here.”

Floating up and down, the little being moved towards her, landing on top of her chest. It immediately brought two tendrils in front of its face, making an inquisitive noise.

“I’m fine, don’t worry…” She giggled, seeing the creature being genuinely relived from her words. “You are quite something, you know that?”

Big eyes moved left and right as its transparent body changed into a blushing pink.

“I guess I know what to name you…” She poked it with a finger, causing a little noise very close to a laugh. “How about Tendie?”

The creature looked at her for a moment. It was almost as if it was reflecting on it, but then its eyes almost smiled as it moved left and right, making the most adorable sounds the witch ever heard.

“Tendie it is, then.”

She opened her hand, letting it land on it.

“Nice to meet you, Tendie.”

A big smile appeared on her face, happy to have found such an amazing familiar.

“My name is Pyrrha.”


End file.
